


Counting

by agentlemons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I'm Sorry, Implied Relationship, Rain, Season 3 AU, mentions of Bobbi Morse, mentions of Jemma Simmons - Freeform, raindrop counting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentlemons/pseuds/agentlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz has been waiting and counting.<br/>Waiting and counting the days until Jemma comes back to him.<br/>A season 3AU.</p><p>(Part of my "Fitzsimmons Drabbles," and for @AgentsofSuperwholocked, who asked for #29 and requested a specific prompt that I fell in love with)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilsciencequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/gifts).



The rain falls lightly down the window and stops at the sill, leaving a drop noise in its wake.

It has been raining, to the best of Fitz’s sleep deprived memory, every day for the past 2 weeks.

Some days it was harder than others, where he could count each individual drop that landed on the sill. Today was one of those days.

He lies on his bed, his hands folded over his stomach, still fully clothed from the day, and not intending to sleep anytime soon, as his pattern has been for the past 730 days.

456.

457.

458.

He counts each drop, dreading to hear another as he gets closer to the inevitable number.

730.

The number has been haunting him since he woke up from his 5-minute nap this morning.

His routine consists of getting up out of a bed he wasn’t even sleeping in, walking to the lab for a long day of unanswered questions and dead ends, only to return to the same bed when he was forced by one of his teammates to do so.

532.

533.

534.

He turns on his side, his back to the window, as he would get distracted by the rain trails and lose track of counting.

His eyes land on the mirror that was reflecting his face, and he almost squints in order to see his old self. His eyes have been taken over by the bags underneath them, his face noticeably skinnier, as is his whole body. There's a noticible amount of facial hair on his face, demonstrating just how little he tries to to put effort  as a whole

And he doesn’t care at all.

Everyone’s tried to help him; Bobbi’s even tried to help him with combat training, so he’d have something to do instead of having another disappointing day in the lab, chasing a hunch that even he was starting to regret was even plausible.

His eyes rest on the clock just to the left of the mirror, where the time reads 11:55.

Five more minutes until 731 becomes the dreaded number.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the sound of the the drops of rain on the cold platform.

726.

727.

728.

729.

730.

He stops at that number, because, if he keeps counting, then he feels as if he’s given up. That if he’s prolonging the counting, then he’s prolonging the days that have gone by.

730 days since Jemma was sucked up into the monolith.

He lies on his back once more, staring up at a crack in his ceiling. It’s cold in his room, but he doesn’t even bother to reach for something to warm himself up.

 _I’ll find you Jemma_ , he thinks to himself. _Even if I’m the only one that still believes you’re alive._

He looks at the clock, where it now says 12:01. And he begins to count the raindrops again until he reaches 731.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr. I'm jemmaslittlemonkey :)


End file.
